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Graff1980 Aug 2016
The road was hard.
Your eyes looked far
to see time roll on
forever.

An arrow’s heart
that never starts,
but always point on
until forever.
Punctured veins
dripping stains
of holy affirmation.

And to the god
you thought was there
hoped he stood with you
dreamed he cared
instead you found
he was never real.

You raged and cried against the night
to steal back some forgotten light,
but left this life
a bloated broken ****** fleshy blister.
Erin Halle Jul 2016
I've figured it out: I'm dead.
And, wow, there is a God!
One just as horrible as they said.
This is a short poem describing the realization of being in Hell, and having been sent there by an unjust God.
JT Jul 2016
I found religion at the bottom of a cereal box
and ended up saving it in my pocket for awhile, spending my sundays
beside spiritual cannibals speaking of the Supergalactic
and eating on the good word while waiting for the Hand of god
or so-called Miracles; only recently have I discovered
the sacrosanctity of the seed, the egg, the space between matryoshka dolls,
the amoeba before it splits or the amoeba afterwards, baby teeth
and graduates, letters stuffed in pen tips in hands of poets
kneeling with the armless, contrapposto women waiting
inside blocks of marble and boiling pots of Hellenic brass worshiping
in the house of the hesitant spring crawling from the earth’s core
on stolen time;

I say a heretic’s “Amen” to the parting of lips,
the movement of breath, all werewolves on the half-moon and
the moon before the harvest, bless the ant hills full of false gods
that band together in the symphony of the subatomic and glory be
to the Truth! the only truth, that just as all things die in the end, so too
are all things born at the beginning, a fact lost on all those preaching
sacred scriptures in the dead language
of the Impossibly Huge.
two old poems i mashed together. maybe one day i'll edit this properly :O
I pulled the flowers from their roots
letting the thorns dig into my flesh
that had grown rough
a hard shell
the thick blood was a blatant reminder of my mortality
something I could often forget these days
as I make my home in a house of shambles and rotting wood
numb and empty and forgotten
lost to those I once loved
my pleas for warmth fall on deaf ears
they couldn't carry the pain with me
they could smile in the midst of death
but I embraced the fact that this would all end
a curse for knowing the truth, I suppose
I plucked the petals of yellow roses
and mixed my blood with the soil full of decomposition
burying myself under the blanket of the earth
letting it swallow me
digest me
this blob of rock among stars will carry the pain of knowing the truth
that life does not last forever
that the heat of blackness was our home before our birth
a comfortable universe
so when we die we will return into the darkness
unaware of ourselves
taia May 2016
i used to pray once
when i believed in winged men
and life after death
Are you out there?
Are you listening?
Can you hear me?
Cause I need to see
That's there's someone
Who will answer me
And that the world is in your hands
Oh God please help me
Don't just diminish things
I can't see clearly
Or how I used to see
You're fading faster
From my memory
Oh God please take me in your hands
I need to know that you're out there
I need to know that you still care
I need to know there's a home up there
And that it's not a hopeless dream
Can you hear me?
Are you listening?
Because he's in my head
And it hurts me
God I know you
Won't desert me
So I'm reaching out my hand
Dating an atheist when you believe in a higher power.
ConnectHook Apr 2016
∅☢☯✰✿⚥∅☯✰✿☠☯✰

Religion, you harlot and ****** of the masses

I smell the stagnation you bring upon earth.

Gold becomes lead, in stained roseate glasses

diluting, corrupting, negating its worth.

Hierarchical structure and pseudo-anointing

seem holy— but prove antithetic to Christ

whose transparently sure apostolic appointing

began a new age, and sufficed.

I renounce you, religion. Your temples lie fallen…

the future arises from ruins, ever new.

Mere human unrighteous momentum must stall

when the truth spins around into view.

He was scorned, he was vilified; slain for your sin

Abrahamic philosopher, healer and friend

yet perceived as demoniac right to the end.

His beginning is here in your heart. Never fear:

Dead religion must perish for true love to win.

Hermeneutics imploding—His coming is near

a poem a day for NaPoWriMo2016

www.connecthook.wordpress.com
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